The Bitter Jest of Fate
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: When something terrible starts befalling the inmates of Arkham Asylum, Batman is forced to form a truce with his greatest enemies in order to save their lives, at the risk of losing his own. Massive thanks to Storm Princess for the idea, and for the incredible support! :-)
1. Chapter 1

**The Bitter Jest of Fate**

"I want a lawyer! I want a doctor! I want a cheese sandwich!" screamed Harley Quinn as she was dragged back into her cell at Arkham Asylum. The guards ignored her, slamming and locking the door and walking off. "I have the right to remain silent!" she screeched. "You didn't tell me I have the right to remain silent! That means this arrest ain't legal! You gotta let me out if you don't tell me I have the right to remain silent!" she shouted, struggling with the lock on the door.

"Harley! You do have the right to remain silent, so just take advantage of it, would ya?" snapped Poison Ivy from the neighboring cell. "I got a headache."

Harley pounded her fist against the lock and hissed in pain. "But Red, I gotta get outta here!" she exclaimed. "Mr. J needs me! We got seperated during the heist, and the Bat grabbed me, but Mr. J managed to get away! He must be so lonely and scared and worried about me, my sweet, adorable, loving puddin'! He must feel so lost without his Harley girl…"

"I just said headache, Harley," growled Ivy. "The last thing that's gonna make the headache go away is hearing you fawn over the clown. So just keep it to yourself for once."

She shut her eyes and curled up on her bed, massaging her temples. It was a really sharp, shooting pain in her skull, like a migraine only much, much worse than any migraine she had ever had. She also felt slightly nauseous, although that could have been as a result of Harley talking about Joker.

Harley came over to the window, looking at her in concern. "You ok, Red?" she asked, gently.

"Yeah. Think I'm just getting a cold or something," she muttered. "I just feel really funny."

"Eating bad shrimp kinda funny or that feeling you get when you see Mr. J's face kinda funny?" sighed Harley in adoration.

"Sick to my stomach, so both," she retorted.

"You wanna ask the guards if you can go to the nurse?" said Harley.

"Nah, I'll just sleep it off," she replied. "Never liked using drugs, and herbal remedies are obviously outta the question."

"Ok. Lemme know if I can do anything," said Harley. "I'll try to break outta my cell quietly so I don't disturb you."

"Thanks, Harley, you're a real pal," sighed Ivy. She shut her eyes and tried to think about something besides the pain. Had she eaten anything funny yesterday? She had eaten the same as everyone else incarcerated in here, minus the plants, of course. She wondered if any of them were feeling bad. If it was food poisoning, she shouldn't be the only one feeling sick.

She sat up. "Harley, since you're so eager to shout, can you see if you can make yourself heard in the next cell block?" she asked. "I wanna know if any of the guys are feeling ill."

"Sure, Red, no problemo," she said. "Who's locked up at the moment?"

"Harvey and Johnny Crane are the only ones I remember off the top of my head," she said.

Harley nodded. "You might wanna cover your ears," she said. Ivy put the pillow over her head as Harley shrieked at the top of her lungs, "HARVEY! HEY, HARVEY! YOO HOO, MELTY FACE! YOU DEAF AND DEFORMED? ANSWER ME! HARVEY!"

"WHAT?" came a roar of rage from the neighboring cell block.

"HOW YOU FEELING?" shouted Harley.

"NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS!" he yelled.

"RED'S FEELING SICK! YOU FEELING SICK TOO?"

"I DUNNO WHY YOU THINK I'D HAVE CAUGHT ANYTHING FROM HER!" he shouted back. "SHE IS PROBABLY CRAWLING WITH DISEASES, BUT SHE AIN'T MY GIRLFRIEND NOW SO I AIN'T AT RISK OF GETTING ANY OF 'EM!"

"Screw you, jerk!" shrieked Ivy.

"Hey, let's keep it civilized!" snapped Harley. "YOU SURE YOU'RE FEELING OK, HARVEY?"

"LIKE A MILLION BUCKS!"

"OK, THANKS! HOW'S JOHNNY FEELING?"

There was a growl. "Hang on, I'll check. JOHNNY!"

"WHAT? WHAT IS IT? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO READ WITH YOU ALL MAKING THAT RACKET?!"

"Pammie's feeling sick. How you feeling?"

"Fine."

"HE SAYS FINE, HARLEY!"

"OK, THANKS, HARVEY! SEE YOU AT DINNER!" she called. "They're feeling fine, Red," she said, turning back to Ivy.

"Yeah, I heard," she replied. "I must just be getting a cold. I ain't gonna worry about it anyway."

"Why don't you just take a nap or something, Red?" suggested Harley. "I'll make sure nobody disturbs you, at least, until I break outta here."

"Yeah. Well, wake me up when that happens so I can say goodbye," said Ivy, sarcastically, watching her punch the lock, wince in pain, and then punch it again. "Night, Harley."

"Night, Red! Sleep tight!" Harley said, running against the door. She crashed against it, frowned when nothing happened, and then backed away to run at it again. Ivy sighed, shutting her eyes tightly and pulling the pillow over her head, trying to ignore the throbbing in her skull. It was probably nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Harley didn't see Ivy for the rest of the day. This was mostly because after repeatedly running against the door to her cell, the guards ended up chaining her to the wall so she literally couldn't see Ivy. And when she was finally released at dinner, Ivy was still asleep and Harley didn't want to disturb her.

"The kid's probably tired out from all that yelling," she said to Jonathan Crane at dinner. She looked around. "Where's Harvey?"

"He said he wasn't feeling well," replied Crane.

"Huh. Must be something going around," said Harley, shrugging. "Maybe a bug or something."

"Yes," said Crane, glancing suspiciously at his food and gently pushing it away. If it was food poisoning, he had no desire to share in it.

Harley had no such qualms, devouring her meal enthusiastically. "Johnny, can I ask you a favor?" said Harley, smiling sweetly at him when she was done eating.

"Of course, Harley, anything," he replied, sincerely.

"I really need to bust outta here. Mr. J needs me – he doesn't cope very well when I'm not around. He just misses me so much, and I can't bear to think about him being upset."

Crane looked at her skeptically. "Yes, I'm sure he's a broken shell of a man," he said, sarcastically.

"Yeah, he really is, Johnny," sighed Harley. "I'm glad you understand. So I was wondering if you could help me escape, maybe with a little fear gas attack on the guards, what do ya think?"

"That would involve me getting my hands on my fear gas, which I understand is contained in the high security vault in the basement," he retorted.

Harley waved her hand. "Piece of cake, Johnny! At least, it would be if Mr. J were here, and he ain't," she added, her face falling. She suddenly smiled again. "But don't you worry, I may be blonde, but I ain't dumb. I'll find a way to get into the vault, as long as you promise me that in return you'll help me bust outta here."

"Yes, fine, Harley," he agreed, resolving not to hold his breath.

He was completely dumbfounded later that night when Harley Quinn literally dropped into his cell from a vent in the ceiling. "Evening, Johnny!" she exclaimed, cheerfully.

"H…Harley?" he stammered, astonished. "How did you…"

"Mr. J and me sometimes use the vents to slip into each other's cells for a little playtime, y'know," said Harley, grinning. "The pipes run all over this joint, and luckily we're both skinny enough to fit through 'em. Lucky you are too, Johnny. Let's go," she said, standing up on the bed and pulling herself back up.

Crane struggled to follow her, not being as athletic as Harley, but she helped pull him up and then crawled along the series of ventilation tunnels with him trailing behind. "I ain't ever been to the basement, but it can't be too hard to find as long as we keep heading down," she said. "There might be some other useful things down there besides the fear gas – maybe weapons or something we can use to break out with. They must have confiscated all kinds of fun stuff from us over the years. Come to think about it, I'm missing a little jester staff you could shoot the head off of, and I know Mr. J lost a batch of Joker fish products. Maybe we'll find them down there. You can have them if we do – I hate fish. That was the worst of Mr. J's capers I've ever had to endure, but you gotta admit it was a great scheme, just like everything he plans. He's just such a genius, and so handsome too, my gorgeous, perfect, precious puddin'…"

Harley continued to babble adoringly about the Joker, and Crane tried to tune her out, concentrating instead on the fact that they appeared to be sloping downward at a gentle incline.

Suddenly, Harley let out a shriek as one of the grates she was crawling over suddenly gave way, and she fell through. "Are you all right?" called Crane, hurrying over and looking down.

"Yeah, fine!" she called, standing up and rubbing her backside. She looked around and then called, "Hey Johnny, you might wanna get down here! I think I found it."

Crane climbed gingerly down to join her, in a large chamber shrouded in darkness. A small window in the top corner of the room gave a sliver of illumination from the moonlight that shone in, and Crane could dimly see some cannisters in the far corner of the room.

"Are those it?" asked Harley, as they headed over.

Crane studied them. "No," he murmured. "No, it's not my fear gas. I don't know what it is."

There was a label on it, and Crane squinted to make out the writing in the moonlight. "_Panacea_," he read.

"Pan of whatta?" asked Harley, puzzled.

"It's a word derived from the Ancient Greek, _panakeia_," murmured Crane. "Meaning a kind of miracle cure. Something that will solve all problems."

Harley had been exploring the room while her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and saw that there were a series of chains hanging from the walls. "Guess they used to use this as a kinda jail," she commented aloud. "To lock up prisoners. Either that or Amadeus Arkham had an S&M fetish. Wouldn't be surprised, but this ain't a patch on our dungeon at home, or as Mr. J calls it, the fun-geon…"

Crane suddenly held up his hand. "Do you hear that?" he whispered.

"What?" asked Harley. And then she did hear it, a low moan, coming from a door at the end of the room. Harley's eyes widened in fear, and she clasped Crane's arm tightly.

"Is it a…a…ghost?" she stammered.

"Highly unlikely," he retorted. "Most so-called ghost sightings have been proven to be tricks of a nervous mind brought on by the suggestion of fear…"

The moan was repeated. "Sounds like a ghost," whispered Harley.

"Nonsense, Harley, no such things exist," he retorted. "There's absolutely nothing to be afraid of, and I'll prove it to you."

He strode over to the other side of the room and threw open the door. "There, you see? No ghost."

But Harley's face was as white as if she had just seen a ghost. "Red?" she stammered.

Crane looked inside to see Poison Ivy chained to the far wall, staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and vacant. Harley approached her tentatively and lay a hand on her shoulder. "Red?"

Ivy's empty eyes moved slowly up to look at Harley. "Who are you?" she murmured.

"I'm…I'm Harley, Red," she stammered. "Your best friend. You know me. You…you gotta."

"Harley," Ivy repeated blankly. She shook her head slowly. "No, I don't recognize that name. Are you a colleague of mine?"

"Yeah, you could say that," agreed Harley, slowly. "We've fought the Bat together a couple times, remember?"

"Bat?" she repeated. "What Bat?"

"Batman, Red," replied Harley. "C'mon, you gotta remember Bats! He's our nemesis, the guy we're all trying to beat, me and Mr. J and Johnny here…"

"Mr. who?" asked Ivy.

"Mr…Mr…J," stammered Harley, tears in her eyes. "You gotta remember Mr. J, Red! My boyfriend? The Joker? You hate him, remember?"

Ivy shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. "I don't…remember," she murmured. "I don't remember you or him."

"But…but you gotta, Red!" gasped Harley. "You gotta remember something…"

"I do," she interrupted calmly. "I remember that I am Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley. I am a promising botanical biochemist researching rare plants and the benefits they can provide society. I am currently holding a research post at Gotham University, and plan to give a lecture on my findings within the next few weeks. I don't know you, or this Bat or Mr. J, so I think you must be mistaking me for someone else."

Harley stared at her in astonishment. "No, Red, no," she murmured. "Red, you're not that at all. You're Poison Ivy. You're locked up in Arkham Asylum because you're a homicidal maniac, just like the rest of us."

She stared blankly back at her. "I am Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley," she repeated. "I am a promising botanical biochemist researching rare plants…"

"Snap out of it, Red!" cried Harley, seizing her and shaking her. "C'mon, wake up! You're acting like somebody in a dream or a nightmare or…"

"Or under the influence of drugs," murmured Crane, quietly. Harley turned to him, horrified.

"Drugs?" she repeated. "She's been drugged? But…but who would drug her? And why?"

"Perhaps someone who wants to cure her," whispered Crane. "And all of us. Provide us with a panacea."

"You mean…"

"I don't know, Harley," he interrupted. "I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out."

He returned to the cannisters, reaching into his pocket for a vial and spraying some of the gas into it. He shut it tightly and then said, "We'd better go. There's nothing we can do to help her right now."

"But…we can't just leave her like this, Johnny!" exclaimed Harley. "She's talking crazy!"

"No, Harley," he murmured. "She's talking perfect sense. That's the problem."

He went over to her and gently put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to analyze this drug when I return to my cell," he murmured. "I will try to find a cure for her. But there's nothing else we can do but wait."

Harley nodded slowly and touched Ivy's face gently. "Red? If you can hear me, we're gonna help you. We're gonna be back, ok? Don't be afraid."

Ivy just looked at her without recognition. "Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley," she repeated. "A promising botanical biochemist…"

Harley heard her murmuring to herself as she followed Crane back up into the vents. She couldn't prevent her tears from falling.

They returned to Crane's cell. "You…you will be able to help her, won't you?" asked Harley, gently. "You will be able to bring Red back?"

"I'll do my best, I promise," said Crane. "You go back to your cell now, Harley. Get some rest."

She nodded and obeyed him. She looked through the window at Ivy's empty cell and then lay down, crying silently to herself.

It was pitch black when she awoke to hear her cell door slowly creak open. She sat up suddenly to see shadowy figures approaching her. She was numb with terror, and before she could react, she was seized and her arms held behind her back in a firm grip. One of the figures approached her, and in his hand, by the light of the pale moonlight, she saw the shape of a syringe, and a long, thin needle.

"No," she gasped, tears trickling down her face. "No, please…"

She felt a sharp pain in her neck, and then nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

The Joker was seated in front of the TV, lounging in his boxers and undershirt, and dripping milk from the chocolate cereal he was munching onto his clothes and the sofa. At his feet were his and Harley's pet hyenas, Bud and Lou, sniffing around the discarded plates and takeaway boxes, which the Joker had just left lying on the floor, and licking up the remains of food on them. Lou then jumped up onto his lap to try to lick the chocolate milk off his clothes.

"Down, boy!" snapped Joker. Bud tried to use this distraction to bury his face in the bowl of cereal, but Joker shoved him away. "My cereal!" he retorted. "Get your own!"

The hyenas whined in disappointment, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. "What? You can't be hungry again!" he exclaimed. "Look at all the food lying around! There's good eating in that takeaway box! Plenty of sauce there for you to lick up! It's sweet _and _sour! A fiesta of flavor!"

They whined again. "And what's wrong with three-day-old Chinese takeaway, I'd like to know?" demanded Joker. "You'd eat rotting animal carcasses in the wild, for Christ's sake! Don't be so goddamn picky! Speaking of which, there's a perfectly good takeaway delivery boy corpse in the hall – why don't you eat that?"

He glanced at the door. "Oh. Never mind," he muttered.

He slurped up the last of the cereal and then placed the bowl on the ground. The hyenas instantly fell upon it, fighting each other to lap up the chocolate milk. "I blame Harley. She's spoiled you," growled Joker. "Well, you better get used to living without her, boys! It's the bachelor life for us all now, and I, for one, am loving it!" he chuckled, lighting a cigar and leaning back.

He looked around the room, and his face fell. "Boy, this place is a dump," he muttered. "Should probably get a maid in here to clean it up." He inhaled from his cigar. "So how do I go about finding a maid?" he wondered aloud. "I guess they're advertised in the phone book. Now where's the phone book, and how do I get it without having to get up?" he asked, looking around. "Harley's probably put it somewhere stupid, the worthless little brat."

An idea suddenly struck him. "Bud, Lou! Hey, boys!" he shouted, clapping his hands. The hyenas looked up at him. "Phonebook," he said, slowly. "Phonebook. Go get it!"

They stared at him. "C'mon, boys, find the phonebook for Daddy!" he said. "Go fetch it! C'mon!"

They just looked at him, and then Bud jumped up and licked his face. "Get off!" he snapped, shoving him away. "Jesus, I get rid of Harley and I still got dumb animals slobbering all over me!"

Bud whined, and then curled up on the seat on the sofa next to Joker. Lou piled on top of him and they both began whimpering, still staring at Joker with their pleading eyes. "What?" he demanded. Bud nuzzled the seat and gazed at him again. "No," retorted Joker. "I ain't bringing her back! I'm finally free of the useless waste of space, and I'm gonna enjoy my freedom, not chain myself up again! I would've thought you could empathize, having choke collars of your own!"

Lou gently began to lick his hand. "No!" he snapped again, snatching it away. "Mommy ain't coming back, so just get that through your thick skulls! And if you think you can blackmail me with those puppy dog eyes, you can't! Harley's tried that one, and it don't work! My heart is stone. Stone, I tell ya!"

He put the cigar to his lips and smoked, focusing back on the TV. Bud and Lou continued to stare at him, wagging their tails sadly. "Look, just stop it!" he shouted, rounding on them. "Go take advantage of your freedom, would ya? Go make a mess on the carpet or claw up the furniture! There's all kinds of fun you can have on your own without some stupid woman around holding your leash! Go have fun! Go play! C'mon!"

They didn't respond except to sink their heads down. Joker stood up. "C'mon, boys, make the most of your freedom, just like I am!" he snapped. "Look what I'm gonna do!" he shouted, kicking over the cereal bowl so that the little chocolate milk remaining inside it spilled onto the carpet. "See? If Harley were here, she'd tell me off for that! She'd say, 'Don't make a mess, Mistah J!' in that shrill, annoying voice of hers. She'd say 'You just make more work for me, Mistah J, you selfish creep!' And she'd get really irritated, and we'd probably have a fight or something, but she'd end up fawning over me just like she always does. She'd say something like, 'I can't ever stay mad at you, Mistah J, because I love you, puddin'.' Well, I don't have to hear 'I love you, puddin'' anymore, and I'm damn grateful for it! And so should you be!"

He sat back down, folding his arms across his chest. The hyenas just started whimpering again. Joker tried to ignore them and watch TV, but his own eyes wandered about the room. "Still," he muttered, smoking thoughtfully. "It would save me the trouble of having to get up and find the phonebook. And even if I do find it, hiring a maid is gonna be expensive. It would be cheaper to just bring Harley back. At least she works for free."

The hyenas raised their heads hopefully. "Plus I'm running outta clean boxers," he muttered, looking down. "Need someone to either do the laundry or buy me some new ones. Wearing the same underwear day after day is just a bit too French for me."

Bud and Lou began wagging their tails, and nuzzling him. "Yeah, yeah, all right, fine," he snapped. "I'll bring her back, just to clean up this mess, and then I'm throwing her out again. I don't need her, you got that?"

The hyenas just laughed. Joker glared at them and then stood up, looking around. "Now…where are my pants?"

Lou leapt off the sofa and rushed into the other room, returning a moment later with Joker's purple pants in his mouth. "Oh, that you understand!" he snapped, grabbing them. "Bring me the rest of my suit then, would ya?"

They both raced from the room and came back with Joker's shirt, waistcoat, bowtie, and jacket. He watched the TV as he dressed, which was playing the news. "…and in what appears to be a miraculous recovery, it has been confirmed that both Dr. Pamela Isley, otherwise known as the supercriminal Poison Ivy, and former DA Harvey Dent, sometimes known as Two-Face, have both been rehabilitated and have returned to their lives as productive citizens. Dr. Isley is currently in a research post at Gotham University, while Mr. Dent has returned to practicing law, choosing to wear a mask to conceal his deformity. The two former inmates of Arkham Asylum were feared incurable, and the cause of their incredible transformation is not known at this time…"

Joker paused in his dressing and stared at the TV, which was showing footage of Ivy and Two-Face, both looking completely normal and interacting casually with everyday citizens. "What the hell?" he muttered. Then he shrugged. "Always knew those two were weak!" he chuckled. "Never had the flair for madness and supervillainy that I do! Probably better that they quit while they were ahead!"

He laughed. "That's two less second-rate criminals occupying Bats's attention!" he giggled. "At this rate we'll be able to have a battle every night, just him and me! Aw, it's gonna be glorious! Thanks for being boring, losers!" he called at the TV.

He continued to laugh to himself as he finished dressing, then grabbed his gun and headed for the door. "You boys behave yourselves while I'm gone!" he said. "I'll be back with a nice corpse for you to snack on. What about Harley?" he chuckled.

They both growled menacingly. "Only joking," he muttered, shutting the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

The Joker whistled as he climbed over the wall of Arkham Asylum. "Better wave for the security cameras!" he chuckled to himself, raising his hand and smiling. "Hope they're getting my good side! Aw heck, they're all good, aren't they?" he laughed.

He landed on the ground and checked his watch. "In 3…2…1…showtime!" he laughed, spraying a cloud of Joker toxin from the flower in his buttonhole just as a group of security guards came rushing around the corner. "Aw, it's a real gasser, huh, boys?" he chuckled, as he strode past the guards laughing themselves to death. He whistled again as he went around the back of the building and wrenched a grate off the wall, then climbed inside the ventilation shaft.

"_When you're smiling, when you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you,_" he sang as he crawled along the tunnel. "_When you're laughing, when you're laughing, the sun comes shining through. But when you're crying you bring on the rain, so stop your sighing, be happy again, keep on smiling 'cause when you're smiling, the whole world smiles with…_"

He dropped down into what he had thought was Harley's cell. But he must have gotten lost in the labyrinth of vents, because he was surprised to see, not Harley, but Jonathan Crane, with his ankle chained to the wall of the cell and staring at him in astonishment.

"Ah…Johnny…you're not who I'm looking for," he said, about to climb back up into the vents. "See ya!"

Crane suddenly seized him in a suffocating embrace. "Oh, thank God!" he gasped. "Oh, I finally understand how Harley can be happy to see you! I could kiss you right now!"

"O…K…how about you don't do that, Johnny?" said Joker, slowly. "I'm flattered, really, but spoken for, and I don't want the Bat to get jealous if he finds out there's another guy…"

"Batman! Yes!" exclaimed Crane, his eyes suddenly shining in hope. "That's who you need to find! You need to find Batman! He's the only one who can stop this! He has to stop it! For our sakes as well as his!"

"Johnny, this may be a bit of a redundant question to ask a man locked up in the nuthouse, but are you insane?" demanded Joker. "Cause you're certainly babbling like a lunatic!"

Crane sat down, wiping his eyes. "Yes, of course, do forgive me," he murmured. "It's just been a torturous few days…I…I…think it's been days anyway. I lose track, my mind's under a lot of strain, and with no nourishment…"

Joker studied him. He certainly looked a lot thinner than usual, and that was saying something. "Don't take this the wrong way, Johnny, but you look terrible," he said. "Frankly, if you're gonna make a declaration of love to me, I'm offended you didn't take the time to comb your hair…"

"Will you please stop joking and listen to me!" snapped Crane.

"Hey! That ain't no way to talk to someone you said you wanted to kiss!" retorted Joker. He chuckled. "Although I do tend to snap at Harley a lot. Course she loves it, the little minx…"

Crane grabbed him by the collar. "Do you have any idea what's happened to Harley?" he hissed.

"No. What could have happened to her? She's safely locked up in here," retorted Joker.

"Nobody's safe in here anymore!" hissed Crane. "There's some kind of terrible experiment going on, and we're the test subjects!"

"Funny, you don't look like a guinea pig to me, Johnny!" chuckled Joker.

"They've found a cure, Joker," murmured Crane. "A cure for our madness."

"Ok, first of all, don't flatter yourself," retorted Joker. "Our degrees of madness are nowhere near the same. You're just slightly off the rails, and I've completely crashed the train into the neighboring town where there ain't even a railroad track. And anyway, there can't be one cure for all types of insanity…"

Crane reached into his pocket. "There is," he murmured, pulling out the test tube. "It's called Panacea. And that's what it does. It cures all madness."

He buried his face in his hands again. "It…it acts like a lobotamy, attacking the frontal cortex of the brain. It erases imperfections, making the brain of the lunatic exactly the same as the brain of an average human being. But that's the true horror of it. It erases all that makes the lunatic an individual. It forces the lunatic to conform by making them completely without personality, and without any desires except to stay in line and obey. It turns them into robots, docile, emotionless robots, who will happily continue on in life doing whatever the person who has injected them with the drug has told them to do. And…there is no cure. At least, none that I've been able to synthesize locked up in here. The effect is permanent."

Joker took the vial from him, studying it closely. "There was a story on the news about Harvey and Pammie being cured…" he murmured.

Crane nodded. "Yes, that's because of the Panacea. They were the first to be injected. It's a two-step process – they've placed a small amount of it in the food, and once you've eaten that, they give you a second injection with a needle that then begins working on your mind, causing great pain. And then they…suggest things to you. Tell you who you were, and what you will be forever in the future. You can't break out of the pattern after that second injection. I've been starving myself so as not to begin the process – once I've eaten the food, they'll find a way to forcibly inject me with it, and then I'll be lost. I can't let that happen. I can't let my identity be erased like everyone else's…"

"How do you know all this?" asked Joker.

Crane looked at him. "I…I saw it happen. To Harley."

Joker seized him by the collar. "You mean somebody's tried to undo all my hard work and cure the worthless broad?!" he hissed.

"Not tried, Joker," murmured Crane. "Succeeded."

"Where the hell is she?" he demanded.

Crane nodded at the chain on his ankle. "Get me out of this and I'll take you to her."

Joker glared at him and then said, "Just a second, gotta change the setting from gas to acid." He reached for his flower and twisted it 180 degrees, then squirted a jet of acid onto Crane's chain, which sizzled through the metal.

Crane stood up with great difficulty and then said, "Follow me."

They crawled through the vents, gently sloping downward, until they came to room where Crane and Harley had found the Panacea. Crane pushed open the door to reveal Harley chained where they had seen Ivy, with the same vacant, blank expression in her eyes.

Joker approached her slowly. "Harley?" he said.

She looked at him without recognition. "Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel," she murmured at him. "Promising young psychiatrist interning at Arkham Asylum…"

He slapped her hard across the face. "No, you ain't!" he snapped. "You're Harley Quinn! The Joker's Harley Quinn! My dumb blonde slave and annoying little thorn in my side! So just stop talking sense right now before I have to beat some crazy back into you!"

Harley just stared blankly back at him. "Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel," she repeated. "Promising young psychiatrist…"

He hit her again. "Shut up!" he cried. "Stop talking like that, would ya? Mr. J says stop this right now, so just do what Daddy tells you!"

"Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel," she whispered. "Promising…"

"Aw, hell!" snapped Joker. "All my hard work, wasted! Guess I'm just gonna have to break your useless mind again, you stupid woman!" He slapped her again for good measure and then squirted acid onto her chains.

"Right, we need to get outta here and find a cure, Johnny," he said, seizing Harley around the waist. She made no resistance or acknowledgement, just looked around the room with vacant eyes.

Joker dragged her back into the other room when suddenly a voice said, "Hold it right there!"

He looked up to see a group of men standing in the doorway. One of them held up a radio. "Sir, we have Crane and the Joker. Repeat, we have the Joker."

"Ah, excellent. It will be a pleasure to cure the Joker," said a strange voice on the other end of the radio. "Neutralize them."

"Yes, sir," replied the man, holding up a dart gun.

"I wouldn't, buddy," snapped Joker. "Nobody tries to cure me, you got that?"

In response, the man shot the dart. Joker pulled Harley in front of him, using her as a shield. The dart hit her in the neck and she fell unconscious into his arms.

"Mistake, buddy," growled Joker. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a match, which he suddenly lit and tossed at the gas cannisters. They exploded instantly, filling the room with choking smoke. Crane was blinded, but he suddenly heard another explosion and then felt Joker's hand on his arm.

"C'mon!" he shouted, pulling him toward the gap which Joker had blown in the wall with one of his playing cards. Joker had tossed Harley over his shoulder and now ran away from the building into the parking lot, with Crane on his heels. They both jumped into Joker's car, he threw Harley casually into the backseat, and then drove off into the streets of Gotham.

Joker kicked open the door to his hideout carrying Harley in his arms. He was immediately rushed by Bud and Lou, who leapt up on him and began licking Harley enthusiastically. "All right, all right, calm down!" he snapped, carrying her over to the sofa. "Give her some room to breathe!"

The hyenas began sniffing her, and a look of confusion came into their eyes. They started whimpering, looking at Joker in puzzlement. "What?" he demanded. "It's Mommy!"

Harley's eyes fluttered open at that moment and she saw the hyenas. She shrieked in terror, backing away from them and they followed her, whining. "Wild…wild animals…indoors," stammered Harley. "That's…not right! That's crazy! Get them away! No, stay away from me!" she cried, as Bud tried to jump up on her.

The hyenas looked from Joker to Harley, whining in confusion. "Yeah, yeah, I know she ain't quite herself," muttered Joker. Harley noticed him and the terror in her eyes grew.

"Why…why are you dressed as a clown?" she stammered. "That's…not normal."

"Ain't what you would call a normal guy, toots," he chuckled.

"Who are you? What am I doing here?" she asked, terrified. "I haven't done anything wrong – I'm Harleen Frances Quinzel, a promising young psychiatrist interning at Arkham Asylum. Why aren't I there now?"

"Because we busted you outta the nuthouse, toots," retorted Joker. "It ain't where you belong, not being crazy at the moment and all. I'll fix that soon though, baby," he murmured, grinning. "I'll drive you completely bonkers, my sexy little shrink. And trust Daddy, you'll love it."

"You're…you're not my father," she replied, backing away from him in terror. "I…I don't understand what I'm doing here. Who are you people? Why is there food all over the floor? What are these hyenas doing inside?"

Bud and Lou now turned to face Crane, and suddenly began growling. They rushed toward him, but Joker grabbed their collars. "No, he ain't responsible!" he snapped. "We're gonna need him alive if we're gonna find a cure, so just cool it!"

The hyenas obeyed, but still eyed Crane suspiciously. "Bud, Lou, Johnny Crane. Johnny, the babies," said Joker, gesturing at them.

"How…how do you do?" stammered Crane.

They snorted and then went to go lie down in their basket, gazing at Harley sadly. "Ok, Johnny, you stay here with Harley," said Joker, heading for the door. "I'm gonna go somewhere and commit a crime."

"What? What crime? Where?" asked Crane, puzzled.

Joker shrugged. "I dunno. I'll just drive along until something takes my fancy. I just need it to be big enough to attract the attention of a certain flying rodent. I think we're gonna need Bats's Bat-lab to synthesize a cure for this thing. You get on the computer and do some research into this Panacea crap. I wanna know where it comes from and who makes it, and anything else that can help the World's Greatest Detective do his job for him. I'll be back soon, ta ta! Oh, and if you can cook up something for the boys to eat, Johnny, I'd be grateful. They start eating people if they get hungry enough, and I don't really think they like you. See ya!"

Crane managed to make a fairly edible pasta dish with the ingredients in the kitchen, and fed both the hyenas, himself, and Harley, who seemed unable to comprehend her situation and just sat staring blankly at the TV. He had just finished doing some research on the computer when the front door was kicked open and Batman stormed in, dragging Joker behind him in handcuffs.

Harley started up in terror. "Who are you?" she demanded, panicked. "Why is that clown back? He's not normal, and I…I'm not comfortable with things that aren't normal! Why are you dressed as a bat? Are you insane? I…I don't like people who are…insane!"

"I told you, it's no joke, Batsy!" snapped Joker. "She don't know who we are, and it's all because of this drug thing!"

Batman looked at her carefully and then said, "Where is the drug?"

Crane reached into his pocket for the vial and handed it to him. "I trust Joker has explained how it works, and its effect?"

Batman nodded. "What other information do you have for me?" he asked.

"Well, there's very little about it on the internet – I understand it's meant to be a top secret project," said Crane, turning back to the screen. "The only other helpful piece of information I've come across is who's in charge of manufacturing it."

"And who is it?" asked Batman, leaning forward.

Crane turned and showed him the screen. "Bruce Wayne."


	5. Chapter 5

Batman's eyes narrowed. "Bruce Wayne?" he repeated. "Are you sure?"

"That's what it says," replied Crane.

"That rich son of a bitch!" growled Joker. "If I had that much money, I'd find other ways to have fun without trying to interfere in the lives of lunatics!"

Batman opened his mouth to say more when he was suddenly knocked to the ground by Bud and Lou, who began clawing and biting at him. "No, no, boys, not this time!" cried Joker, trying to pull them off. "We need him alive! I know it's an awkward situation, and I'm not comfortable with it either, but if you wanna get Mommy back, you gotta not kill him, ok?"

The hyenas climbed off reluctantly and Batman rose slowly to his feet. "Let me read the article," he said, shoving Crane out of the way. He skimmed the text: _Wayne Industries research team developing radical new drug…Bruce Wayne's personal authorization…billionaire has long had an interest in helping patients at Arkham Asylum, donating huge amounts of money to the facility for improved treatment…"If this Panacea does succeed in curing those unfortunate people, we will have brought about a universal good, not just for Gotham, but for the world," said Mr. Wayne in a statement released to the press…_

Batman leaned back, thinking. Obviously he had never authorized anything of the kind, nor released any sort of statement. But it shouldn't be too difficult to discover who did and had, especially since Bruce Wayne certainly had a right to know who had acted in his name.

"I'll find out what's going on, and do an analysis of the drug to try to find a cure," he muttered, standing up and heading for the door. "I want the two of you to stay here and not do anything illegal until I get back."

"Aw, but Bats, in desperate times like these, what else can you do but have a little fun?" chuckled Joker.

Batman looked at him, and then released him from his handcuffs. "I'm trusting you," he muttered. "It may be a terrible mistake, but I can't send you back to Arkham with the way things are. I think Crane cares enough about Harley's life to do as I say. The question is, do you?"

"Think you probably know the answer to that, Bats," laughed Joker. "I only went to rescue the useless waste of space because I needed someone to clean up the place. Tell ya what, I'll save you all the effort of finding out what's going on if you do a quick tidy up for me. Be a sorta Bat-maid service. It would let you skip all the trouble of analyzing and interrogating, and I don't mind admitting I'd like to see you in one of those sexy French maid outfits," he chuckled.

Batman lifted him up. "This isn't a joke, Joker," he growled. "If I don't stop this, not only will Harley remain as she is, but one day, they'll find you, and catch you, and cure you. You're going to end up just like her. No joke, no gag, and no final punchline. Just vacant, mindless compliance. And I know you well enough to know that somehow, you just may not like that idea."

He dropped Joker to the ground. "Point taken," muttered Joker, standing up slowly and rubbing his backside. "But c'mon, Bats, just one or two tiny little crimes? Just to keep the romance alive? We've never gone cold turkey like this before, and I'd hate to lose everything we've shared…"

"Then you'd better just stay here and not do anything," interrupted Batman. "Because if you're cured, we won't be fighting ever again."

Joker whistled. "Boy, you sure know how to scare a guy, Bats," he murmured. "Johnny, you could take a lesson in fear outta this guy's book," he said, gesturing at Batman.

"I hope to be back with results tomorrow night," said Batman. "I'll see you then."

And without another word, he left.

Joker smiled at Crane. "Well, Johnny, looks like it's just you and me! And brain-dead Harley, of course, but she don't count," he said, nodding at Harley who still stared at them, shivering in fear. He turned back to Crane and grinned. "This is great! We'll be just like _The Odd Couple_! I'm the loose, laid back Oscar and you're the neat, uptight Felix! And since you're so neat and uptight, why doncha go about cleaning up this mess? Must be driving you crazy!"

Crane glared at him. "Do you own damn housework," he muttered, turning his attention back to the computer.

"Ok, well, since you're on the computer, can you find me a maid?" he asked. "There's something you can use called a…search engine, I think? Harley tried to explain it to me once, but I ain't really a gadget kinda guy, that's more Bats's style…"

"We can't hire a maid – how are you going to explain the corpse in the hall to her?" demanded Crane.

Joker shrugged. "We'll just kill her before she leaves, and that'll solve the problem of feeding the boys too! C'mon, Johnny, this place is going to blinking blue blazes, and I don't even know how to use a dishwasher or a washing machine or a vacuum…"

"Well, if Harley's going to remain in this state, you'd better learn, hadn't you?" snapped Crane.

"Yeah, I guess I'd better," agreed Joker. "Why don't you get a maid in here to show me…"

"Why don't you take the hyenas for a walk?" interrupted Crane. "They look like they want to go."

Joker turned to see Bud and Lou scratching at the door, with their leashes in their mouths. "You think you can find me a dog-walker on the internet too, or will a maid do that?" he asked, turning back to Crane.

"Just go!" snapped Crane.

"All right, all right," muttered Joker, putting the leashes on the hyenas and opening the door. "If I had just hired a maid in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess," he muttered, leaving the room. "Lesson learned - if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself."


	6. Chapter 6

"Look, you wanna sleep on the floor?! Cause_ I_ ain't gonna sleep on the floor!" snapped Joker later that night. "And Crane's got the couch, so unless you'd prefer the floor, just get on your side of the bed!"

Harley stared at him in terror, and then slowly nodded and lay down on the bed, fully clothed. "No, _that's _your side of the bed!" snapped Joker, pointing. She nodded again and moved over. Then she curled up tightly on top of the blankets and shut her eyes.

Joker sighed, grabbed his pajamas, and headed for the bathroom. Nothing had changed when he emerged – Harley was still curled up on top of the covers. He climbed under them on his own half of the bed. "Don't you dare come near me," muttered Harley.

Joker laughed. "I never thought I'd hear those words coming outta your mouth, toots," he retorted. "Usually you're the one who can't keep your hands off me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted. "I'm Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel, promising young psychiatrist and perfectly normal human being. I would never have anything to do with the likes of you, some sort of crazy…freak."

"Sticks and stones, baby," he snapped. "Just shut your useless mouth and go to sleep, would ya?"

He shut his eyes. She shifted her position slightly, and suddenly sat up as she heard a strange noise. She reached under the covers and pulled out a whoopie cushion. "What on earth is this doing here?" she exclaimed.

Joker rolled over and chuckled. "I can't believe you don't remember that!" he giggled. "It's your favorite toy, sweets! Nobody can use that like I can, and nobody enjoys what I do with it as much as you do."

"I…I don't understand what you mean," she stammered.

"Well, lemme put it like this," he said, grinning. "It puts a whole new spin on the phrase 'making whoopie.'"

Harley stared at him. "You mean…you mean you use it when…oh God, that's disgusting!" she cried, throwing it away from her and wiping her hands on the sheets.

"Aw, don't be so precious, sweetheart," he snapped. "You love it. You used to beg me for it. 'Oh please, can we use the whoopie cushion, Mistah J? Please, please, please, puddin'?'"

"Puddin'?" she repeated, horrified. "You mean you use pudding in…intimate situations too?"

"Well, sometimes," he agreed. "But no, it's your name for me, sweets. You must remember that. You must remember puddin'."

Harley just looked at him. "I…I don't know who you are," she stammered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I know who I am, I'm Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel, promising young psychiatrist, and I would never, never engage in sexual intercourse before marriage, and certainly not with a man who is clearly mentally unstable. So please stop telling lies about me. I don't appreciate it."

Joker sighed, scratching his head. "Huh. Kinda wish we'd made a sex tape or something now, so I could prove it to you. Plus can you imagine sending it to Bats and having him watch it? It'd be a laugh riot! I can just see his face now, absolutely hysterical!"

He burst out laughing. "Oh yeah, baby, we'll have to do that when you've recovered!" he chuckled, patting her head.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, pulling away from him.

"Ok, relax, kid," he retorted. "I ain't gonna try anything. I didn't wanna do it all those times you were begging me for it, so why would I go through all the work of forcing you to do it now when you don't wanna?"

"Because you're clearly insane," she said, glaring at him. "And I don't trust you. A weird, creepy, sick freak like you is probably capable of anything."

"You got that right, kiddo," he agreed, chuckling. "And…I ain't gonna lie…it's odd that you don't find that cute," he murmured, looking at her strangely. "I don't like it."

He sat up facing her. She backed further against the headboard. "Got a joke for you, sweets," he said, smiling.

"A…joke?" she repeated.

"Yeah. Doncha like jokes, Harley?"

"Oh…sure. Some jokes. As long as they're not crude or offensive or anything," she replied.

"Oh," said Joker, his face falling. "Well, that limits my repertoire. Never mind, I'll come up with something." He thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. "What do you get if Batman and Robin get smashed by a steam-roller?"

She looked puzzled. "I don't…"

"Flatman and ribbon!" he chuckled.

She didn't. She just stared at him blankly. "Aw, c'mon, kiddo, laugh," he murmured. "You always laugh at my jokes."

He snapped his fingers again. "Ok, got another one! Why didn't Superman know he could fly?"

"I don't…"

"Because he didn't know his Cape Abilities!" he laughed. Harley continued to just look at him in puzzlement. "See, it's funny because he wear a cape, kid," retorted Joker. "Cape…Abilities? Get it?"

"Yes, I do," replied Harley. "It's just not funny. I don't think you're a very funny man, so you should probably stop trying to tell jokes."

He seized her suddenly around the throat and shoved her down on the bed. "Don't…you…dare…say I'm not funny ever again, you little brat!" he hissed. "You always think I'm funny, you got that?! You're my biggest fan, you useless dame, so just act like it, or I swear I'll snap your little neck in two!"

"Please…don't hurt me!" gasped Harley. There was genuine terror in her eyes, terror that never belonged in Harley's eyes when he was threatening her. She loved the pain and the threats – there was only ever love and adoration gazing up at him when he had strangled her before. Even when she struggled and screamed and pretended to be afraid, there was only ever worshipful affection in her eyes. But now…now there was only fear. Wild, unimaginable fear. She was afraid of him. She should never be afraid of him. Even if he was going to kill her, and he had vowed he would one day, he knew she wouldn't be afraid. She would just smile and let him. Because she loved him, with a mad, insane love that would let him do anything he wanted to her, and she would adore it. She would love her death if it came by his hand. She wouldn't be afraid of it.

He released her throat and she sat back up, gasping. She continued to gaze at him in terror. "Why aren't you smiling?" he murmured.

"Smiling?" she repeated.

"Yeah. My Harley would smile at me when I was hurting her. And you are my Harley, toots, whether you like it or not."

"I am not!" she gasped. "I am Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel, a promising young psychiatrist interning at Arkham Asylum, and I don't want to have anything to do with you! Please leave me alone!"

She flinched as he gently cupped her face. And then cried out in pain as he suddenly knocked his fist into her head. "Yoo hoo! Harley! Are you in there?" he called, continuing to knock against her skull. "Answer me, kid, c'mon, this ain't funny! Harley! I know you're in there so just come back to your loving Mr. J right now! C'mon, kid, the joke's got old, and I know they can't have killed you! I know nothing as easy as drugs could have erased my Harley girl! So just come back, you worthless brat!"

"Stop…hitting…me!" she shrieked, ripping herself away from him. "Please…please don't touch me anymore! Please leave me alone! Please!"

He stared at her, shaking his head. "No," he said, firmly. "No, they can't have destroyed all my hard work. It's not possible. Harley would never have let them – she would never have stopped fighting…"

He took her hands and Harley flinched again. "Harley," he murmured. "Look at me."

She obeyed, and he gazed into her vacant eyes. "You gotta remember me, kid," he whispered. "You gotta remember your Mr. J."

"I don't know who you are," she murmured. "Please don't hurt me anymore."

"You're gonna upset me, and you don't wanna upset me, do you, kid?" he murmured. "It would break your heart. So just snap outta it now. If I get upset, bad things happen. People die. You wouldn't wanna be responsible for that, would you, Harley?"

She shook her head. "I…don't know what you want," she breathed.

"I want you to remember," he murmured. "I want you to stop all this sanity and come back. Come back to the madness. Come back to your Mr. J. Come back, my little Harley Quinn," he whispered, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her tenderly.

For a moment, she shut her eyes. He felt her gently push her mouth deeper into his, sliding her hand up the back of his head and pressing him closer against her with a low moan of pleasure.

And the next instant, it turned into a shriek of horror as she shoved him away, terror in her eyes again. "No!" she screamed, leaping from the bed. "No, no, no! Get away from me, you horrible clown! Stay away from me! Stay away!"

She rushed into the bathroom and locked the door. He heard her sobbing against it, and then rolled over and shut his eyes, trying to ignore the noise and go to sleep. But he was upset now, and people died when he was upset. And before he drifted off, he had chosen who the first person to die would be: Bruce Wayne.


	7. Chapter 7

"I did not authorize this!" shouted Bruce Wayne, slamming his fist down on the table as he glared around the boardroom at the committee in charge of Wayne Industries. "It's massively unethical, and it should never have got to the production stage, let alone been tested on human beings! I didn't authorize it, so who did?!"

There was a general murmuring around the room. "I think we unanimously agreed, sir, as a group, that you would be in full support of anything that would help the Arkham inmates…" began one of the members.

"This does not help the Arkham inmates!" interrupted Bruce.

"Forgive me, sir, but surely any kind of cure is beneficial to..." he began again.

Bruce pressed the buzzer on the table. "Will you please send in Mr. Dent?" he snapped.

A second later, Two-Face appeared in the room, wearing a mask over half of his face, and with the same blank, vacant expression in his eyes that Harley and Ivy had had. Bruce gestured to the group. "Harvey, please tell them who you are," he muttered.

"Harvey Dent, former DA of Gotham City, now serving the law as a private counselor…"

"Thank you. And who am I?" interrupted Bruce.

"You're Bruce Wayne. Billionaire philanthropist and my friend…"

"How long have we been friends, Harvey?" asked Bruce.

His face clouded in confusion. "Many…years," he replied.

"Can you name one event from our friendship? One memory we shared together? Maybe one party we went to, one story either of us told at a dinner? Anything at all?"

His eyes stared blankly back at him. "No. But we are friends…"

"You only think that because someone has told you that," retorted Bruce. "But you don't remember anything about our friendship, do you, Harvey?"

"No," he murmured.

"Thank you, you may go," said Bruce. Two-Face obeyed, shutting the door behind him. "That was not Two-Face," muttered Bruce. "But nor was that Harvey Dent, cured and returned to a productive life as a normal citizen. That is some sleep-walking drone that this drug has created, a false, emotionless, robotic personality injected into the body of Harvey Dent. And I want to know who's responsible for it, and why."

There was another low muttering. "Give me names!" snapped Bruce.

"With all due respect, sir, isn't Mr. Dent, even without all of his memories, preferable to the terrorist Two-Face?" said the man who had spoken before. "I don't really see the issue. While Mr. Dent is a regrettable loss, he was lost a long time ago. Surely him even in this state is an improvement on him going around taking the lives of innocent people?"

"Are you saying the ends justify the means?" demanded Bruce. "That the inmates of Arkham, even as unethically-created, walking zombies, are better than the inmates as violent, homicidal lunatics?"

"Well…yes," stammered the man. "Wouldn't you agree with that, sir?"

Bruce looked at him. "It's Mr. Cutter, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes…yes, sir," replied the man.

"Mr. Cutter, would you mind telling me who's responsible for this Panacea Project?" demanded Bruce.

"It was a…unanimous decision, sir," he stammered.

Bruce leaned forward. "Ideas aren't unanimous," he muttered. "Someone creates them. Whose idea was it?"

Mr. Cutter swallowed. "It was…submitted to us as a solution that would make Gotham safe from the criminals and the lunatics, without hurting them. It would help both them and us. It would be universally beneficial, a panacea to…"

"A name!" growled Bruce, seizing his collar.

"His name is…Dr. Victor Absonus," stammered Mr. Cutter. "He presented us with stellar references, and his past work is very impressive…"

"Yes. I'm aware of his past work," retorted Bruce, releasing Mr. Cutter. "I want Wayne Industries withdrawing all funding and support for this project immediately. And all our scientists to turn their research to finding an antidote. I am holding each and every one of you responsible for this fiasco, and I will be meeting with you all individually to discuss your future with this company. That is all."

He stormed from the room, still shaking in fury. He was even more angry about the committee keeping him in ignorance now – he would have put a stop to it immediately if they had given him that name earlier. Because what the committee didn't know, and what Batman did, was that Dr. Victor Absonus was an alias of Professor Hugo Strange.

He pulled out his cell phone. "Alfred, I need the car at Wayne Tower now."

"Very good, sir," replied Alfred. "It will be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks," said Bruce, hanging up the phone. He waited impatiently, glancing at his watch every few seconds, and finally went outside to see his car parked in front of the building. He opened the back door and climbed inside. "I swear, this Panacea Project…"

"Is gonna be the death of you?" laughed a familiar voice. "You got that right, Brucie!"

Bruce looked up to see the smiling face of the Joker in the driver's seat. Joker stepped on the gas pedal before Bruce could react, dashing off into the streets of Gotham.

"Sorry to finish the punchline for you, Brucie, but I couldn't resist!" chuckled Joker as he drove. "You just gave me a great set-up! I was waiting outside to have a little chat with you, and when I saw your butler drive up, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity for a little one-on-one time, just you and me! So I hit Jeeves on the head, and dragged him outta the car, and he's gonna have quite the headache when he wakes up in that dumpster, let me tell you! But it's worth it to see the look on your face when you saw who your chauffeur really was! Quite the joke on you, ain't it?" he giggled.

Bruce's mind was racing for some way of getting himself out of this situation alive and with his secret identity still in tact. Fortunately Joker was off on one of his usual rambling monologues, which gave Bruce plenty of time to think.

"Frankly, I'm pretty nuts, but even I don't know what was going through your head when you came up with this Panacea crap," Joker continued. "Why couldn't you just keep your rich nose outta our business? I guess you figure that when you got that much money, you gotta make yourself look good to people, otherwise they just think you're a rich jerk, so you start thinking about charity, and helping others, and then suddenly, bam! Your life ain't your own anymore! You're so concerned with appearances that you forget about the most important thing in life, and the easiest thing to do when you're rich: having fun! See, you gotta learn not to care what other people think about you, Brucie. I know I never do! It just ends up getting you into trouble."

Joker liked to talk. Bruce knew it would be impossible to fight him without giving away his identity, but to talk with him…Batman never tried that. It would buy him more time anyway.

"See, I have this friend with the exact same problem as you," continued Joker. "I mean, he's a lot weirder than you – he likes to dress up in a bat costume and beat the crap outta people, but, y'know, everyone has their quirks. You may have heard of him, he's pretty famous. Guy called Batman? Yeah, you probably know him. People tend to. That's what he wants. The guy craves fame and validation for do-gooding. Pretty pathetic attempt at attention seeking, if you ask me, but if it makes him happy, what the hell, am I right?"

"Yeah, I guess," agreed Bruce. "Tell me more about Batman. Is it true what they say? That he won't kill anyone?"

Joker snorted. "Yeah, that's true. He's got a massive prejudice against killing people. Never does it. I don't think he ever has done it. And I always say to him, 'How do you know you don't like it if you've never tried it?' It's like Catholic priests going around saying sex is bad – how do they know if they've never had any? Now I know you and I don't have that problem, Brucie, being men of the world, but the Bat don't seem to understand that the same goes for killing. You can't criticize it until you've tried it. You ever killed a guy, Brucie?"

"No," replied Bruce. "What's it like?"

"What's it like?" repeated Joker. "Well, I can't really describe it to you, Brucie – you just gotta try it for yourself! It's sad that you won't be able to before I kill you, really. But then again, I guess there's always a chance that Batsy will show up and stop me. He has a tendency to do that. I'd really be hoping that's gonna happen if I were you, Brucie."

"And just why exactly do you wanna kill me?" asked Bruce. "I mean, I guess it's not surprising – you're pretty infamous as being completely insane. But I don't know what I've done to be a special target to you."

"Aw, yes, you do, Brucie!" chuckled Joker. "This Panacea crap! I ain't the kinda guy who appreciates people trying to cure me, y'know."

"It wasn't my idea," retorted Bruce.

Joker snorted. "Yeah, right. You would say that, wouldn't you?"

"I'm being serious," he replied. "It wasn't my idea. Batman only told me about it this morning and I've spent all of the afternoon trying to stop it. I've just discovered the guy responsible for it, and I told Batman. He's on his way to confront the guy right now."

"And what guy is it exactly, Brucie?" asked Joker.

"Guy called Hugo…something?" said Bruce, frowning. "Hugo Odd? Hugo Weird? Hugo…"

"Hugo Strange?" suggested Joker.

"Yeah, that might have been it," said Bruce, nodding.

Joker bit his lip. "If Batsy finds Strange first, he ain't gonna kill him," he muttered. "He'll just arrest him and probably won't even be able to get an antidote outta him. While if I find Strange first, I'm gonna torture him until he tells me how to fix Harley, and then rip out his entrails and feed them to my hyenas."

"You have hyenas?" asked Bruce.

"Yeah, two. Bud and Lou, named after Abbott and Costello," said Joker. "Good boys, except they're pretty peckish all the time. Which is why I'm taking you to feed them, Brucie!" he chuckled. "They're really affectionate animals, so they'll probably like you - I'm sure they'll just wanna eat you up!" he laughed.

"Is it far?" asked Bruce.

"About twenty minutes west of here," replied Joker. "So enjoy 'em, Brucie! They're gonna be your last!"

"That's a shame," said Bruce. "Because Batman said Strange was hiding out in the old hospital about twenty minutes east of here. You're never gonna be able to get to your hideout and back before Batman finds Strange. So I guess you'll just have to let the law deal with him. I guess it's best that he faces the justice of the courts, rather than the vengeance of one of the homicidal maniacs he was trying to cure. But if it were me, I would have thought it would be just your style, kinda ironic, like a cruel joke to play on Strange before he dies horribly. But I can understand if you'd rather let Batman handle him."

He was thrown forward suddenly as the car abruptly screeched into reverse. Joker chuckled. "Y'know, I like you, Brucie," he said, beaming at him. "You really understand the mind of a deranged psychopath! Ever thought of becoming one yourself?"

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm not there already," sighed Bruce, smiling to himself.

They pulled up at the hospital and Joker pulled out his gun. "Now you wait in the car, Brucie, like a good boy," he said, chuckling. "I'll be back soon!"

The moment Joker had disappeared inside, Bruce kicked out the sunroof and climbed out of the car. He went around to the side of the building and scaled the wall, then opened one of the windows and crept inside. Below him, he saw Joker carefully creeping down the abandoned corridor. Without further ado, Bruce jumped down on him, knocking him to the ground, and knocking him unconscious with a swift blow to the skull. He dragged him back to the car and locked him in the trunk. After driving back to Wayne Tower to pick up Alfred, who had regained consciousness, they returned to the Batcave, where Bruce changed into his costume and managed to locate Strange's last known whereabouts. After making sure Joker was still unconscious, Batman transferred him to the trunk of the Batmobile, dropped him off at his hideout, and then drove off in pursuit of Professor Hugo Strange.


	8. Chapter 8

"I have been expecting you, Batman," said Professor Hugo Strange in a low voice. He didn't even look up from the chemical he was examining under the microscope. "There is no need to hide in the shadows. I know you're there."

"Then you know the game is up," said Batman, stepping into the light of the laboratory. "So that had better be an antidote you're working on."

"An antidote?" repeated Strange, raising his head and looking at Batman in confusion. "For what?"

"For Panacea," retorted Batman.

"And why would I wish to undo the effects of Panacea?" asked Strange. "It is a complete success. It has erased the insane and aggressive tendencies of formerly homicidal lunatics and allowed them to re-enter society as productive citizens."

"By brainwashing them," snapped Batman. "By turning them into mindless robots."

"However it takes, the result is worthwhile, would you not agree?" asked Strange. "How many lives will be saved, Batman, now that the likes of Harvey Dent and Pamela Isley are no longer violent criminals? Their minds were already disturbed. I just disturbed them again, in a different direction, and now they are harmless."

"They're also zombies," said Batman. "The drug has erased their personalities. And that's not right."

"Right?" repeated Strange, his eyebrows narrowing over his glasses. "You speak of right? Is it right to leave them as they are, insane and incurable, to break out night after night and repeat their cycle of death and destruction?"

"It's completely unethical to alter someone's brain…" began Batman.

"Ethics are for the small-minded, Batman," retorted Strange. "What great benefits to society have not come at the violation of so-called ethics? And I have done so much good. I have cured the vile animals who have plagued this city time and time again. When I am through, Batman will no longer be needed to defend Gotham. You will be able to live a normal life without masks and disguises and fighting. You should be thanking me."

Batman was silent, and Strange smiled. "Or is that not what you want?" he asked, quietly. "Is the truth in this matter that you are not particularly concerned for the welfare of the citizens of Gotham, but for your own selfish pleasure? I imagine you do get some sort of pleasure out of being Batman, out of being respected, admired, feared. Does it frighten you to think of losing that?"

"This isn't about me – it's about them," retorted Batman.

"Them," repeated Strange, smiling again. "Yes, them." He removed the slide from the microscope and went to rinse it off in the sink. "Why are you always on their side?" he murmured, quietly. "The side of the lunatics. Do you perhaps sympathize in some way? Do you question your own sanity? It would not be unreasonable to do so."

"Like I said, this isn't about me," said Batman.

"I think it is," murmured Strange. "I think that is exactly what this is about. Or would it horrify you to admit that you need them? That you want them to commit chaos and murder so that you have some reason to be Batman? Without your lunatics to chase after and bring to justice, you would have no purpose. And a man without purpose is a dangerous man. A desperate man. A mad man. Perhaps living without his lunatics would drive Batman himself to a life of lunacy. It would be better than facing the empty horror of your life without them, I imagine."

"You can imagine whatever you like," replied Batman. "That does not change the basic fact that what you have done is wrong and unethical, and you will undo it right now."

Strange laughed. "I could not even if I wanted to," he retorted. "There is no cure for Panacea. How can one cure a cure? Such a thing is impossible."

"Just because it doesn't exist yet doesn't mean it can't be done," said Batman. "I thought you of all people would understand that, Strange."

He nodded. "It is true. But to synthesize an antidote, you would need the formula. And I am the only one who knows that. I have not written it down. It is all carefully locked away in here," he said, touching his head and smiling.

"And you think I can't get in there, is that it?" asked Batman. "Because I wouldn't push me, Strange. I really wouldn't. It's been a long day."

"Yes, and it will be an even longer night for you, I imagine," said Strange. "As long as the likes of the Joker are at liberty, every night will be a long one for you. The idea that you would not want an end to the struggle is one I cannot possibly fathom."

Batman suddenly seized him by the collar, dragging him off his feet. "Call me crazy, then," he hissed. "Just tell me the formula."

"Not until you tell me why you will not accept my help in ridding the city of these monsters," murmured Strange, calmly.

"Because I don't believe in taking people's lives," growled Batman. "And that's what you're doing, Strange. You've killed these people. And you don't have the right to do that. Nobody has the right to do that. And now for once I have the power to bring people who have died back to life, and I'm going to use it. Life is too precious a thing to be destroyed. I won't allow it to happen, not as long as I can prevent it. I'm sworn to protect life, not destroy it. And I will protect it, Strange, whatever the cost."

Strange nodded slowly. "Then I am right. You are one of them. You are too blinded by your beliefs to see the harm you inflict…"

Batman suddenly slammed him against the wall, and Strange cried out in pain. "I'm well aware of the harm I inflict," he growled. "And pretty soon, you will be too. Unless you give me the formula, now."

Strange managed a nod and Batman dropped him the ground. Strange struggled slowly to his feet and went over to a desk, scribbling something onto a piece of paper, which he handed to Batman. "Thank you," said Batman. He then punched him violently in the face, knocking him unconscious.

After a quick trip to the GCPD to drop off Strange, Batman returned to the Batcave, where Alfred was awaiting him, holding an icepack to his head. "How are you feeling?" asked Batman, climbing out of the Batmobile.

"I've had worse headaches," replied Alfred. "How did things go with Strange?"

Bruce held up the paper. "I'm going to need to synthesize an antidote for this."

"Ah. So you'll be needing a constant supply of coffee tonight, then, sir," said Alfred, heading for the stairs. "I will get to work on it straightaway."

"Alfred…wait," said Batman. He took off his mask and rubbed his eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, sir," replied Alfred, sincerely.

"Is making Ivy and Two-Face and Harley crazy again…the right thing to do?" he asked.

Alfred stared at him. "You're asking me a question of morality, sir?"

"No, I mean…I know it is," said Batman, slowly. "It feels right, and it is right, but if I do this…every victim of theirs from now on is going to be on my head. It will be my fault. Does that make me…as bad as they are, really? Does that make me…one of them?"

Alfred was silent. "I suppose the real question is, do two wrongs make a right, sir?" he asked. "It was wrong of Strange to interfere with their minds. It would be wrong of you to leave them as they are. So is that right? You have never believed that, and nor have I. If you cure them, they will do things that are wrong again. But you will always have done right. So no, sir, it will not make you one of them."

Batman nodded. "And do they not deserve the right, sir, to make their own choices?" continued Alfred. "To cure themselves, really cure themselves, if they can? Could you deny them that opportunity by having them live out the remainder of their lives in that state? That would be wrong, sir. That would make you as wrong as Strange. And no, sir, two wrongs cannot make a right."

Batman nodded again. "You know what is right in your heart, sir, you always have," said Alfred. "Why do you need me to confirm it for you?"

"Because sometimes I wonder if…" Batman began, but then trailed off. "I mean, everyone always does think they're right, don't they? Even the Joker must somehow think he's right. Sometimes you need other people to confirm that you're still…in your right mind, I guess."

Alfred smiled, and then lay a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Master Bruce," he said. "The moment you show signs of madness, I'll have the doctors rush round to put you in a straightjacket and bundle you off to the asylum. You can rely on me, sir."

"Thanks, Alfred," retorted Batman, dryly. But he smiled, despite himself. "Now how about that coffee?"


	9. Chapter 9

Joker awoke with a groan at the terrible throbbing in his skull. "Holy headache, Batman!" he muttered, rubbing his temples. "What the hell happ…" It suddenly all came flooding back. "Oh yeah, Bruce Wayne…Batman…Strange…cure for…"

His eyes fell upon Harley dozing next to him in bed. "Cure for the brain-dead blonde here," he muttered, slapping her across the face and waking her suddenly.

"Who you calling brain-dead, you inconsiderate jerk?" Harley snapped furiously, rubbing her eyes. "Just because you're awake don't mean the rest of us wanna be, y'know!"

He stared at her. "Harley, you're…"

"A whole lotta cranky, thanks for asking!" she interrupted, angrily. "Whaddya mean by waking me up like that, huh? Sometimes you're a real bastard, Mr. J, y'know that?"

"Don't talk to me like that, you useless waste of space!" he snapped.

"Then you don't go around randomly punching me, you horrible, abusive monster!" retorted Harley.

"I'll do what I wanna do to you, and you'll like it, you worthless dame!" he retorted.

"You can't go around treating me like trash, Mr. J!" she shrieked. "I ain't gonna stand for it anymore!"

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, you dumb broad?" he demanded.

"I'm gonna beat that grin off your stupid face, you goddamn clown!"

"I'd like to see you try, you pathetic bimbo!"

"Lousy, scum-sucking creep!"

"Spoiled little brat!"

Smoke was rising off the pair of them. And the next second they were locked in each other's arms, tearing off their clothes, mouths devouring the other.

"Oh, Mr. J!" woke Jonathan Crane on the sofa in the living room. He was confused as the screams of pleasure continued, along with what sounded like the noise of a whoopie cushion, and grew even more confused when he realized that there were two adult hyenas sleeping on top of him. They awoke at the sound too, and suddenly leapt off him, wagging their tails in excitement and rushing toward the bedroom.

Crane rubbed his eyes as his memories came rushing back. He stood up and headed for the kitchen, where he found a note on the table. _Have injected Harley and others with antidote – things should be back to normal. Thought it best she recovered here rather than Arkham. Will be back to collect you all tonight. If you run, I'll find you. – Batman_

Crane sniffed. "I'm really scared," he said sarcastically. He took the note and headed back down the hall, where he found the hyenas whining and scratching at the bedroom door. Crane knocked.

"Come in!" called Joker cheerfully.

Crane opened the door to see Joker sitting up in bed smoking a cigar, with Harley cuddling against his chest, beaming at him in happiness. The hyenas immediately jumped onto the bed, yipping excitedly and licking Harley.

"Hello, babies!" cried Harley, hugging them. "Did you miss Mommy? Did you? Mommy missed you, yes she did! Aren't you just the sweetest babies in the world, yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

"H…Harley," stammered Crane, trying not to notice the fact that she was only partially clothed. "Good to…see you…back."

"Thanks, Johnny!" said Harley, smiling at him. "I'm glad to be back too! Thanks for helping Mr. J rescue me – if there's ever any way I can repay you, you let me know!"

"Yes…yes, of course I will," he murmured. "Batman left a note," he said, handing it to Joker.

Joker read it, grinning. "He's so melodramatic!" he chuckled. "You gotta love the guy, really! Well, we can't waste all morning lazing around in bed!" he cried, reaching for his robe. "We've got places to go and people to kill! Right after breakfast! You wanna make breakfast, Johnny? I'd make Harley do it, but she's a terrible cook."

"Yeah, I really am, Johnny," she sighed. "I always burn the toast."

"Isn't that quite difficult to do if you have a toaster?" asked Crane.

"You would think," she agreed.

"I never cease to be amazed at Harley's incompetence," sighed Joker.

"Aw, I love you too, puddin'," she breathed, kissing him.

Crane left them to go make breakfast. After which he said his farewells, wanting to get to a new hideout well before Batman showed up. He left in high spirits after Harley kissed him on the cheek for his help. He was also pleased that the hyenas were sad to see him go, but Joker assured him this was more because they were disappointed of being robbed of a potential meal rather than feeling any kind of affection for him.

"Well, we'd better make a move too," sighed Joker, shutting the door after him. "Don't really want to be dragged back to Arkham for a little while, just to make sure all the crazy doctors are outta there. But I reckon we got about three hours before the Bat shows up."

"Yeah? What do you wanna do in those three hours, puddin'?" murmured Harley, ruffling his hair.

He chuckled. "I've got a real good idea, pumpkin pie," he murmured, kissing her and lifting her off her feet. "C'mere."

Harley giggled, leaning adoringly against his chest. But to her surprise, he didn't take her to the bedroom, but placed her down in the living room, where a mess of dishes, clothes, and general filth greeted her eyes. "You wanna clean up the place?" he said. "We shouldn't leave a messy hideout for Bats to find. It's tacky."

"Oh…well, I…" stammered Harley.

"Also, there's a pile of clothes in the bedroom that needs washing if you're gonna do the laundry," he said, plopping down on the sofa and flipping on the TV, as Bud and Lou curled up at his feet. "Thanks, baby, you're an angel."

"Sure thing…Mr. J," said Harley, slowly. She looked around at the chaos, and then at the man sitting in the middle of it, and smiled. "I'll get the mop."

**The End**


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